Chapter V.
COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY--CONTINUED.
"Let me see--where was I?" said the colonel, who had paused to light hispipe at this critical juncture of the narrative.
"Twenty thousand leagues under the sea," replied Grace Moreland, gaily.
"Well, I certainly could not have suffered more in the same time if Ihad been," said he with a grim smile. "But just when I had given up allhope, and thought my lungs would burst, I straightened up, determined tocome to the surface at any risk. Lo! I had been groping along in fourfeet of water--and only a step from the shore!
"I had only time to plunge forward and clutch a jagged rock, when amighty wave swept in, nearly tearing me from my place; but this time Iheld fast, and when the wave had receded I clambered up out of furtherdanger, and there I lay, too utterly exhausted to move until dawn.
"I had hoped that daylight would reveal the presence of my companion;but the sun struggled up over a lone stretch of rocky, barrenshore--nothing living was visible. I strained my eyes, gazing out overthe long line of breakers. It was a fruitless quest; I was alone.
"Then I climbed up to the table-land. A sandy plain, broken by patchesof sage-brush and thickets of chapparal was before me, and out towardthe rising sun rose a lofty chain of mountains, as though to shut me outfrom all the world.
"I walked around the promontory and along the coast for several miles,still hoping I might find my friend; in vain. I shouted repeatedly; noanswer. So with a heavy heart I turned and walked inland.
"After assuaging my thirst at a cavity in the rocks, where therain-water had collected, and satisfying my hunger with the eggs of awild fowl, the nest of which I found near a sage-brush, I continued myexplorations inland toward a pass which seemed to open in the mountainstoward the east.
"As I neared the glen, trees, a brook, and a flock of sheep becamevisible. Then, to my great delight, a house showed through the trees;and when a woman appeared in the doorway, I hurried forward andaddressed her in Spanish, to which she replied in the same tongue.
"I told my story of shipwreck, and the kind-hearted peasant woman bademe welcome to the humble dwelling, and proceeded to set before me arepast of omelet and frijoles. While I was still seated at the table,her husband, Pedro, came in from herding his flock, and we soon were onour way to the village to make inquiries regarding my lost friend andthe crew of the _Lapwing_. But nothing could be learned of them; so Iretired to rest, and that night slept the dreamless sleep of sheerexhaustion.
"In the morning I renewed the search, but with no better results; andalthough I traveled along the coast for more than a score of miles,nothing could be found but the bodies of three sailors that I recognizedas having been among the crew of the ill-fated ship. At last, weary andheart-sore, I joined a party of miners, and proceeded to San Francisco;but as my inquiries there also proved fruitless, I immediately went tothe diggings, where my fortunes soon mended, and I was able to send asmall purse to honest Pedro.
"During my stay in the mines I had frequent letters from home, andsister Amy expressed great sorrow at the fate of my noble friend Roger;but I wrote that it might yet be possible he was living, and we stillhoped on. The greatest comfort to me, however, were the letters fromMary, who urged me to return and not wait to acquire more gold; and asmy luck was 'jes powerful,' as the miners averred, I found at the end oftwo years I had saved $50,000, and deciding to 'let well-enough alone,'set sail for home.
"As we were sailing out through the now world-renowned Golden Gate, thecaptain, to whom I had just intrusted my money, remarked that I did notseem to enter into the spirit of joy that pervaded the throng ofreturning miners; and in reply to his look of inquiry and tone ofinterest, I said that the last time I was on a ship I had witnessed aterrible storm, in which the vessel was wrecked, the crew and a dear,kind friend were lost, and I alone was saved; and now the sight of theocean, once again, recalled it all so vividly that I was sad andgrieved, even in the hour when I should rejoice that all my toil wasover. I was too affected to talk further, but looked wistfully out overthe cruel sea that had closed over Roger, my best and truest friend.
"The captain, after a few moments of silence, asked in a tone ofsympathy:--
"'What was the name of the vessel that was wrecked?'
"'The _Lapwing_,' I replied.
"'But the crew and passengers were saved,' said he quickly.
"'Saved!--Roger saved!' I shouted, dizzy with joy; then as I sank into aseat, weak and unnerved, the officer continued:--
"'Yes, the crew was saved. They were picked up by a vessel bound forAcapulco. You can learn the particulars by calling on the Americanconsul at that port, as I believe he took charge of them and assistedthem on to their respective destinations.'
"'I'll give you a thousand gold dollars to put me off at Acapulco,' Icried impulsively.
"'Agreed,' said he, with a laugh. 'We always do stop there, and take aday to revictual and water. No, my friend, keep your hard-earneddollars; but if you find your gratitude burdensome, why, just name yournext boy after me;' then he left me with a good-natured smile.
"I will say that I found it a very pleasant way of discharging the debtby naming my oldest son here after the good old sea-dog, CaptainClifford; and some way I always associate the name with the thought ofthat day when I heard the good news.
"How interminable seemed the long, bright days, as we sailed southward!I paced the deck for hours, and grew morose and nervous, chafing underthe slowness of the stout craft. 'But all things have an end'--an adage,by the way, which my dealings and travel in the tropics has led me todoubt--and when, one evening, we sailed into the long-wished for harbor,I was so impatient to land that only the thought of sharks prevented mefrom swimming ashore.
"After night-fall, however, I found myself in a crooked, winding alley,termed a street in the florid courtesy of that tropic land, and offeringa coin to a villainous-looking native--the only guide I couldprocure--asked him to show me the way to the American consulate; and wewere soon _en route_ thitherward, I, meanwhile, taking the precaution tocover my vile-looking guide with a pistol in one hand and a bowie-knifein the other.
"For an age, it seemed, we tramped through the murky, unlighted streets,until at last we arrived before a fortress-like building, at the gate ofwhich blinked one solitary lamp.
"At my request to see the consul, the servant informed me that 'hisworshipful master had driven out this morning to dine with the noble DonPablo de Zorilla, and that he would remain to the ball at the mansion ofthat illustrious senor,' etc.
"I could barely refrain from kicking the miserable flunky, and the airgrew thick and maroon with the expressions in which my disappointmentfound utterance. Telling the porter that I hoped his lazy master wouldnot stop the 'wheels of commerce' to-morrow to eat garlic and capsicumwith the aristocracy, I returned to the vessel."
"Next morning I called again at the consulate, and the scowling porter,after conducting me to a room, said that his master was sleeping, but hewas instructed to say 'to the insolent American' that his excellency'was too lazy to see me until he had slept off the effect of the garlic,capsicum, and other kindred delicacies, of which he had been partaking.'Then, grinning derisively, the servant left the room, banging the doorbehind him.
"Well, I just stormed up and down that room for two long hours, fuming,raving, and hurling invectives at all the tribe of official sluggards.At length, hearing footsteps without, I clenched my hands in rage,vowing wrath and vengeance on the insulting and self-sufficient officer;but when the servant opened the door and announced, 'Senor Consul,' myanger was all forgotten, and, instead of greeting that functionary witha thwack on the ear, I sprang forward with a wild cry:--
"'Roger--Oh, Roger--am I dreaming?'
"'George--George--is it possible? Alive and well? I've mourned you asdead for years. Thank God--at last!'
"As I stood there wringing his hand and gazing on his dear face throughmy tears, it is needless to say all my belligerent designs
oozedmagically away.
"We were soon interrupted, however, by the porter, who, at the firststrange demonstration on my part, had fled shrieking 'Murder! murder!'his outcry bringing a whole brood of slipshod servants down upon mydevoted head. They came swarming in, armed with gridirons, tongs, andgourds. One sallow, emaciated peon carried a crucifix, which he hadevidently snatched as he flew to the rescue. A burly fellow was just onthe eve of disemboweling me with a pot-metal poniard, when Rogerhastened to explain that we were old friends who had not met for years,and as they retreated in a crestfallen manner, with many grunts andshrugs, we both smiled at the ludicrous phase of our meeting; yes, Ibelieve that 'smiled' is a very mild term to apply to our hilarity onthat occasion.
"Reminding Roger that the vessel sailed at four P. M., and my staytherefore was limited, I begged him to tell me the particulars of hishappy escape, and when we were comfortably seated on the easy-chairs inthe secluded court, he told briefly how he, with several others, clungto the capsized boat, and had been rescued by a passing vessel, boundsouthward. On reaching Acapulco he had called at the American consulate,but found the consul prostrated with yellow-fever, and (as Roger hadpassed through an attack of that dread scourge at New Orleans a fewyears previous to this) he had volunteered to nurse the strickenofficer, who slowly recovered from the fearful malady.
"While that grateful invalid was convalescing, Roger had been intrustedwith the accumulated business of the post. Having discharged the dutiesdevolving on him to the satisfaction of his employer, that gentleman haddeputized him as vice-consul, and then returned to the States.
"Finally the consul resigned, and Roger, on his recommendation, wasappointed to the office as his successor, meantime receiving a hint fromthe home government to make himself as agreeable as possible to thenatives.
"'Which you see, George,' said he with a merry smile, 'meant to acquirea taste for "garlic and capsicum."'
"Then, at his request, I related my experience; how I had searched invain for him along the coast; had gone to the mines and made my 'pile,'and on embarking for home had learned of the rescue of the crew andpassengers of the _Lapwing_; the long days of suspense that hadfollowed, and my impatience to learn something of his fate. I did notomit telling how narrowly he escaped a sound flogging at my hands afterI had been kept waiting so long, which caused him great merriment.
"During our brief conversation I had been conscious of an undercurrentof burning anxiety to learn the fate of Bruce Walraven and his wife. Thesuspense and uncertainty which had haunted me for two long years--themystery of their fate--would now vanish forever, I knew; but I shrankwith a strange foreboding from asking the truth which my heart had solong been vainly seeking. My dry lips and parched tongue could onlyfeebly articulate as I begged Roger to tell me the sequel of thatterrible tragedy at the Old Corral.
"With a look of pain on his handsome face, he said, in a falteringvoice:--
"'I was journeying along on the Santa Fe Trail from Independence,Missouri, to California. Our large train had been delayed at CouncilGrove by a rumor that the Cheyennes were on the war-path; but nothinghaving been seen of the marauders, we started out, after a few days,trusting to our numbers for defense, and when we arrived at the StoneCorral, on the bank of the Cottonwood, a scene of revolting horror metour startled sight--a scene that will live forever in my memory.
"'The stone walls of the corral had been hurled down, and near the sideof the stream were the charred and crisped remains of at least fiftyhuman victims, mingled with the irons of the wagons, which evidently hadbeen fired and the bodies thrown into the blaze.'
"'There were fifty-four persons in our train--How many bodies werefound?' I asked, breathlessly.
"'We counted the smouldering skeletons, and found that fifty-threepersons had fallen victims to the diabolical fury of the Indians.'
"'Oh, God--all gone!' I cried, hoarse with the misery of their certaindestruction--'gallant Bruce and beautiful, kind Ivarene! What a terriblefate!'
"'We were burying the skeletons on a knoll a few hundred paces westwardfrom the Old Corral,' continued Roger, 'and were carrying stone from theconfused mass of its ruined wall to place about the long trench, inwhich the remains were laid, when moans, like some one in pain, wereheard as if issuing from the earth.
"'The mournful scene through which we had just passed had so utterlyshocked and unnerved us, that it is little wonder we felt it might bethe spectres of the victims still haunting the scene of the awfultragedy; but a moment's reflection set us to searching among the ruins,which resulted in our finding you, wounded and delirious, buried underthe fallen wall.
"'Several large stones had rested against the lower part of the wall,and thus, in a providential manner, shielded you from the avalanche ofstone which had fallen when the savages had thrown down the wall byprying with the wagon tongues, that were still lying about as they hadleft them.
"'We placed you on a canvas stretcher, and put you in one of my wagons.As there was a physician in our train, you did not lack for medicalattention; but that dreadful gash on your head was very slow in healing.As your mind was completely shattered, and you remained delirious allthe long journey to Santa Fe, we could not bear the thought of leavingyou there among strangers, but brought you on to Los Angeles with thetrain.'
"'I never before have told you, Roger, that there was more than onehundred thousand dollars in gold and gems with our train; but such wasthe case;' and as he sprang up in amazement, I told him briefly thehistory of Bruce and Ivarene, and how I had lost my fortune of fiftythousand dollars in gold with that of my dear friends on that night ofhorror and despair.
"'It is needless to say,' replied Roger, 'that no trace of the treasurewas found; but it seems incredible that so vast a sum could have beencarried away by the savages! Did you have any liquor with the train?' heasked in a thoughtful manner.
"'Yes, several barrels of wine and brandy,' I answered.
"'Then that accounts for the blood on the grass, near several newly madegraves close by. The Indians had found the brandy, no doubt, and themassacre ended in a drunken row among themselves, in which several ofthem had died a violent death. It is a mystery, though,' he added, 'howa pack of drunken, wrangling savages could have divided such an amountof coin without leaving some trace. And, George, I would advise you tomake a systematic search on your return,' he continued; 'for it may havebeen that the treasure was buried there.'"
"Did you ever make the search?" asked Clifford Warlow of his father, inan eager tone.
"No; certainly not," replied the colonel; "it would have been folly tosuppose that the band of pilfering, murderous savages would have leftanything valuable behind."
But the answer did not satisfy his son, who looked out toward the knollwhere the Old Corral, with its broken walls, cast long shadows in theslanting sunbeams; and as the colonel proceeded with his story it wasnoticed, by more than one of the group, that Sabbath afternoon, thatClifford remained lost in thought, and his eyes roamed from the speakerout over the scene of that tragedy of bygone years.
"At the end of that mournful story," pursued the colonel, "I was pressedby Roger to remain with him until the next vessel passed; but Ideclined, thanking him, and telling him that Mary was waiting for me onthe banks of the Missouri, and I could tarry no longer than a few briefhours, until the craft would sail. Then, as we stood on the ship,whither he had accompanied me, I told him to remain in the cabin for amoment until I could return. Then going to the captain, I asked him forthe money which I had deposited with him.
"The fifty thousand dollars was carried into the room where Roger waswaiting, and when the sailors had retired, I said, in answer to his lookof inquiry, that I was prepared to execute the compact which we enteredinto at Los Angeles, to be 'pards,' and divide profit and loss; and Itendered him there on the spot twenty-five thousand dollars, which wasone-half of my savings in the mines. Roger would not hear to theproposition; he scouted the idea of 'robbing me of my hard earnings,'and all my pleadings we
re in vain,--he was obdurate.
"I reminded him how I owed my life to his care and kindness; but myentreaties all were unavailing, as he would only ridicule the offer,saying that he had now more than enough for an old bachelor. So Ifinally desisted, but told him that should he ever need assistance orthe services of a friend, to call on me, for I felt a debt of gratitudewhich I could never repay him.
"I smile even yet to think how I blushed when I showed him Mary'spicture; and while he was looking with undisguised admiration at theminiature of sister Amy, I told him how she had never ceased to regrethis sad fate, and that in her last letter, which I handed him, she hadwritten that she still vaguely hoped he might some time return; that hemay have escaped--'such things sometimes do occur--and she could yetthank him for his care and tenderness to her brother.' When the dearfellow beamed with such delight, I proceeded to say how delighted sheand my mother would be to have him make us a long visit soon, which hereadily promised to do within the year. As he still held the picture ofmy beautiful sister, and seemed so reluctant to surrender it, I ignoredit entirely or pretended to do so, and as we proceeded with our talk, Isaw, with half an eye, that he furtively slipped it into his pocket, atwhich I was so gratified, I had to pinch myself to keep from dancing ajig of delight.
"It was hard indeed to part with Roger, and not before he again promisedto visit me within a year did I say farewell; then we were again sailingout on our homeward voyage. We tarried but a short time on the Isthmusof Panama; for, in fact, I had but an indifferent opinion of that littleneck of land, made up, it seemed, of snakes, centipedes, and bad smells.Whew! it makes me faint, even yet, to remember how those nasty, vile,old swamps radiated their bad odors! There had just been an earthquaketo roil up the concentrated filth which was packed away in those slimybayous, and as every whiff of wind came loaded with its own peculiarstench, the variety became so wearying that I grew at length tired ofthe 'nasal panorama,' and vainly yearned for the friendly precincts of aglue factory.
"It always seemed to me that Nature had aimed to make a sea of theisthmus, but had taken the flux or cholera, and left her work but halfcompleted."
A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail Page 6
